


Dandelion Puffs

by ReaverOfHearts



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, all the blue lions and then some!, modern au with magic Lite bc i love stuff like that, plenty of sothis byleth and jeralt bonding i LOVE them ok, this is silly and self indulgent but I am a fan of Soft things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 17:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21305540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaverOfHearts/pseuds/ReaverOfHearts
Summary: Everyone in Fodlan is born blessed with a magic that suits them, and Byleth's - though wild and unpredictable and accompanied by the presence of someone in her mind with very strong thoughts of her own - does its best to lead her to something she can call home.
Relationships: Blue Lions Students & My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Jeralt Reus Eisner & My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth & Sothis
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	Dandelion Puffs

_ “Make a wish, kiddo,” her father says. Pulled from her thoughts, she looks to where he’s sitting, her impassive gaze falling on the fluffy white puff he had plucked from the ground. To demonstrate, he blows on it, cheeks theatrically puffing out in effort as the flower bursts and scatters its seeds to the wind. She must furrow her brows a teeny bit, because she hears her father’s warm laugh when he looks back to her. “It’s a dandelion puff. Good things are supposed to happen if you wish on ‘em. No harm trying, right?” _

_ She furrows her brow a little more because even she knows that wishes are sacred things. But he laughs again in response to her quiet confusion. “It’s. It’s a kid thing, I guess, no need to be like that.”  _

_ Ah. _

_ She’s only seven, but she knows. She knows she’s different from the other children she’s sometimes seen. She’s heard their whispers, their parents’ whispers. Her face never shows it, but the sting she feels is real nonetheless. She must not be a very good child, she thinks, but then she would always remember her father’s laugh, or how he’d pick her up and twirl her around to her delight. She doesn’t mind trying more kid things. _

_ So she drops her eyes to the field around her, honing in on a large puff nearby. She grabs it with a bit too much force, uprooting the whole thing in an explosion of dirt that has her father chuckling once more as he mutters a soft, “Easy there, tiger.”  _

** _Even I know not to pluck a flower so. _ **

_ The voice in the back of her mind is edged with amusement, familiar and intimidating at once. But she ignores it, choosing to glance at her father once more. He shrugs in response. “It’s your wish. You don’t have to tell me or anyone else in the world.”  _

** _It is really a silly use of magic._ **

_ Chastising this time, but in her mind’s eye she sees the hands of the voice’s owner cup her own around the plump stalk.  _

** _But the wish is yours in the end. Come, come, make it now! And we shall both see it to fruition. _ **

_ It has to be a good wish. So she thinks very, very hard for a moment, her eyes squeezing shut in concentration. Then she takes a deep breath, puffing her cheeks out the way her father had done, and she blows as hard as she can. The sudden and familiar thrum of magic sings around her without her permission, and when she opens her eyes, she sees the stalk she held was bare now. She glances at her father to see his approval, but his eyes are wide as he looks elsewhere. She looks up to see not only the seeds of her dandelion puff dancing around her, but many, many others, the sky littered now with their presence.  _

_ Warm as ever, her father scoops her up in amusement, as if she had not shown again why they keep to themselves so often. “Must have been some wish, huh?” he says even as she tries to wiggle out of his grasp to keep her eyes focused on the sky above. “A wish that big is sure to come true.” _

_ She didn’t think it was a very big wish. Just a good one. She watches as the wind picks up, carrying the seeds to their new homes.  _

_ She wishes to have people who would stay at her side. Friends. And somewhere, deep deep deep down. She wishes to find her heart.  _

_ The wind kicks up and by now she’s managed to half clamber onto her father’s shoulders to see the seeds disappearing into the distance, as if being swallowed by the clouds. Nothing feels different. To distract herself from the disappointment creeping into her, she looks for shapes in the clouds. In the middle of convincing herself she sees the stark shape of a lion, she feels that telltale hum again of the voice in her mind. _

** _I already told you. We shall see it come true._ **

_ It’s comforting enough. _

_ ******************************************************************************************** _

Magic had long been a constant in their world. Woven into the fabric of every person, in their very bones, their veins, their souls it still rang clear. Legends told that long ago, the magic of this world had been infinite and vast. Powerful, beautiful, frightening, the elements themselves could bend to the will of those strong enough. Yet when the Goddess Sothis was laid to rest, most of the magic went with Her. Now it presents itself in smaller scales. There are those still powerful enough to bend elements, but nothing so dramatic as the controlled hurricanes and blizzards of old. No, the magic nowadays always seemed to suit the user, be it large or small. Many loved what their magic brought them, but some. Some did not. 

Byleth has long since reconciled herself with the voice— _ Goddess _ — in her head. Where other people have tunes stuck in their heads on loop or intrusive thoughts that will not rest, she has a whole other person to contend with. She’s accepted it for what it is, even as it sometimes scares her. Even when she wonders furiously where Sothis begins and where she ends. But it’s fine. She’s fine. She’s even made a joke of it. 

Her apartment is largely empty, devoid of any items of sentiment, but it  _ does _ hold one very important thing within it: Sothis. The cat. She remembers fondly the childlike irritation Sothis-The-Goddess had thrown her way, which had only been compounded when Byleth had started addressing them respectively as Sothis-The-Goddess and Sothis-The-Cat. Byleth had pretended that it was for her own sanity. Whenever she wanted to outwardly yell at the one in her head, she could just pretend she was yelling at the cat for something to save face.

It was a weak lie.

Byleth does not have anyone other than her father to pretend to. It’s rare that she entertains guests in her home. She supposes there’s some amusement to be found in telling people the name of her cat. Most would consider it blasphemous. 

She does not blame Sothis, not really. They were equally stuck with one another in this situation, Sothis in her head, and Byleth in this wandering lifestyle that had only recently come to a pause. The magic Sothis grants her is wild at times, hers and distinctly _ not. _ Her father had not told her much when growing up, just that life was safer and easier if they went where the wind led them. Now that she’s grown into herself, she thinks he must have been scared. She has never mentioned Sothis to another living person, but the magic is evident, and was much harder to contain when she had been younger. But things are better now. And while she does not have a huge sense of home, she’d like to give it a shot.

Sothis-The-Cat had been a whimsical decision to make her new apartment feel less temporary. It’s working for her, so far. Maybe today she’ll explore the area a little more, instead of the usual monotone of going to work, then going home. A few months in and she barely knew more than the corner store nearby. Maybe, just maybe. She could even try decorating. She’s out the door not a moment later, heading out onto the sidewalk when the wind kicks up and she stills. Dancing before her, are two little dandelion seeds.

It’s silly. She knows it’s silly to see  _ seeds _ and go racing after them as if her life depends on it. (Sothis is quiet in the back of her mind. Maybe it’s not so silly as she expects.) But the scent of the wind brings her back to that moment in her childhood all those years ago, that wish she’d made in a field with her father, and her feet are flying before her mind catches up.  _ There had been magic in that wish. _

So she bolts past people, cars, buildings, wondering where she’ll be led, the twin seeds dangling before her a prospect she’d long since buried as fantasy. The wind picks up and blows the seeds around a corner and worried she’ll lose them, she sprints around the bend thoughtlessly, knowing her mistake the moment she collides with—something. It should have been a wall with the way her face hurts from it and how it hardly sways at the full brunt of her slamming into it, but she hears a soft “Oof,” above her and knows it’s definitely a person.

** _(So we’re attacking strangers now, are we?)_ **

But she doesn’t have  _ time _ for that, so she mutters a quick  _ sorry _ even as she hears a stumbled, “A-are you alright?” She’s already glancing around and up and trying not to lose sight and  _ why is this person so goddess-forsakenly tall _ but she freezes the moment she looks up and sees, resting on a bed of messy blond hair, one of the little dandelion seeds. Oh.  _ Oh. _

“Can we help you? Do you need any assistance?” the man tries again, worry coating his voice. She glances around quickly, eyes landing on the building they were standing in front of.

“Flowers,” she blurts out. She had been led to a flower shop.

** _(Byleth, I swear.)_ **

She watches as the worry lines on the man’s face (refined, gentle-looking, right eye marred and covered by an eyepatch, but the eye she does see is so  _ blue _ and she’s curious, so curious-) seem to dissipate, a laugh rumbling through him as she takes a step back from him, jumping to awareness. She wrinkles her nose in belated pain as he says, “Then you’ve come to the right place. Not a soul around grows flowers half as beautiful as Dedue does.” 

She peers around him to see the man in question, somehow even taller than the one she’d unfortunately slammed her face into. Despite the set in his brows that almost looks like a glare, there is a fondness there that instantly has Byleth at ease. “You are far too eager to heap praise on me,” Dedue responds, not looking up from something that held his attention. He was gently holding the other seed, she realizes, something knowing in his gaze.

“Hardly,” was the blond’s response. “Whatever I say, you’ve earned as much and more. But please, forgive me, I’ll be late if I stay much longer.” 

“Just a moment more, if you will--” Dedue says, and the blond turns in curiosity. Byleth watches as Dedue plucks the seed that had found its home on the man’s head.

“A dandelion seed?” he laughs as he looks at what his friend holds out. “I recall when I was little, a whole cloud of them flew at me out of the blue. I sneezed so hard I think I took a few years off of Felix’s life, I scared him so bad. But if that is all, I wish you a wonderful day, Dedue. I will drop by again soon. And--” Here he turns to Byleth, who still isn’t certain she’s processing everything correctly. “I’m sure you’ll find the flowers you desire here. They must be exceedingly important for you to have been in such a rush, but I promise that you will not be disappointed.” And just like that, with a courteous bow, he’s around the corner and gone. 

  
  


“Come inside,” Dedue offers, already walking into the flower shop. She feels Sothis’ buzz of excitement in her mind as she follows him. For a moment, she’s taken aback. Everyone has their own kind of magic, their own special  _ something _ they brought to the world. This shop  _ sings _ with Dedue’s love for his plants, pure and strong, and she’s sure she sees the plants turn in time with him, the flowers following him as if he were the very sun they depended on. It’s beautiful and unexpected, and she finds herself drifting about to look at every flower, every bud and bloom, knowing that each one is alive with Dedue’s brand of magic. 

“Here,” he says, and she turns sharply towards him, eyebrows shooting up. What he offers her is a small pot brimming with tiny white flowers. “Queen Anne’s Lace,” he supplies. She doesn’t know the faintest thing about flowers, but she grabs the pot anyway. 

“Thank you,” she says, finding her voice again after her franticness from before, monotone as it may be. Is this how flower shops work? Do they pick out flowers for you? “I’m Byleth,” she continues hurriedly, realizing her prior rudeness. Ramming into his friend, then walking in here and barely uttering a word was. Not great, she’d say that much. But he hadn’t seemed to mind the silence, and for that alone she was already infinitely grateful. 

“Dedue,” he responds, though she’d already heard his friend say it. She gives him a polite nod before turning to fish her wallet out of her pocket. She may as well actually buy flowers while here, but he gives a shake of his head. “These are meant for you. Take them.”

When she angles her head in confusion, she sees that he still has the dandelion seeds with him. “Wishes are important,” he offers. He finally lets the seeds go and, as if done with their job, they lazily drift about. “Those flowers wish to be with you. So, please. I give them freely.” 

She thinks about how, when she gets home, she’ll have a little potted plant to sit at her window sill and take care of, gifted to her no less. It fills her so strongly with an emotion she can’t put a name to that it threatens to bring her to her knees right there. “Thank you, Dedue.”

He nods in approval. “Of course.”

“I’m afraid I have very little knowledge of plants,” she admits. 

“That is fine. I can tell you what you need to know. You may come here anytime you like if you need help with it.”

And that. That alone feels like a lifeline. 

“Thank you,” she repeats, thoughts filled with how a little more of her apartment will feel lived in just from this one instance alone. How a little more of her  _ life _ might be filled. It’s too soon to tell, but she was led here. That much she feels is certain. She intends to make the most of it while she can. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is incredibly Self Indulgent but I love modern settings with a sprinkling of magic, and I also just!! Love modern aus, so this seemed like a good way to get some ideas/headcanons out in the open. I'm incredibly slow at writing but with any luck I'll have some more pieces to add to this ; v ;/


End file.
